


leave before the lights come on

by madfatty



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, guest appearances from Archie and Chop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 23:10:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4198587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madfatty/pseuds/madfatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Fizzy when it was just the four of them (probably a week before Izzy asks if they can keep Chloe) Don't make that face; read it first, then you can make the face. This is about friendship and Finn is a really good friend. This one may just be my favourite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave before the lights come on

Friday night, the last day of term, and Chop’s browbeaten some poor div with an empty into throwing a party. The air is a thick haze of sharp synthetic sweetness, alcohol, cigarette smoke and weed. It’s making Finn’s eyes water and his head ache. There are people everywhere, a lot of whom Finn’s never seen before. Lots of new girls all ripe for the picking and Chop’s right in there, giving it plenty, hoping to at least get some.

Finn hangs back. He’s tired and bored and tonight he thinks he’ll just be happy to be with his mates; have a few drinks and watch the proceedings. He grabs a couple of beers from the carrier bag Chop’s stashed behind the couch and settles into an overstuffed armchair in the corner of a dark, quiet room just off the kitchen. The music is shite and it makes him long for his own room but he can’t even be arsed to get up and find the stereo to put an end to it. He can see Chop from here and he can’t help but laugh, watching the wannabe master at work. Just to the right of Chop, Archie’s been baled up by a couple of girls, all short skirts and lip gloss. Anyone who didn’t know Arch the way Finn does would think he’s having the time of his life, but despite the way he’s slouching casually in the door frame, Finn can see the tension in Archie’s shoulders and the slight grimace on his face. He’s trying to hide his anxiety, sipping constantly at what is probably a now-empty can of cider.

Archie throws a pleading look in Finn’s direction but Finn just smiles and shakes him off. Normally he’d ride in and help his mate out but not tonight; he doesn’t have the energy to deal with people he doesn’t know tonight. He wonders, not for the first time, why he agreed to come out. But he knows why really; it’s because Izzy had asked. Chop always gets Izzy to ask when he thinks Finn will say no because it’s a well-established fact that Finn can deny Izzy nothing. Izzy could ask for the moon and he’d find a way to get it for her.

Speak of the devil - he looks up to see her weaving her way across the room towards him, stepping over the drunken bodies already littering the floor. He extends his hand in invitation and she settles against him easily. Finn shifts so she’s half on his hip and half on the arm of the chair. Slinging his arm around her shoulder he tucks her up close into his body and smiles goofily up at her.

“Alright, chuck? How’s my favourite fairy?”

“Alright, I s’pose,” she sighs softly, lacking her usual bubble.

“What’s up?”

“This is so boring. I don’t know half these people and the half I do know are twats! I’d rather we’d gone to the pub, just the four of us.”

“You know me,” Finn says, clocking Archie make his excuses to short skirt and lip gloss before grabbing another drink and heading for the stairs. “Stay here with me and we’ll have our own fun, yeah? We can watch Chop try it on with every girl in the room. That’s always good for a laugh.”

“Not every girl…” she mutters into her neon-bright alcopop.

“Say what now?”

She turns to face him sharply. “I’m a girl too, Finn!” she says, considerably louder and more forcefully than either of them anticipated.

“I had spotted that, thanks Izzy.”

“Yeah?” she grumbles, “Wasn’t sure any of you had bloody noticed.” She watches Chop run his hand across some strange girl’s arse, copping an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. Finn snorts and Izzy grins in spite of her bad mood. It doesn’t make her feel better though.

“You know it’s not easy hanging around with you three all the time, don’t you? I mean, even if a boy did fancy me, he’s got to get past you lot…” Her eyes follow Chop as he disappears deeper into the house on the hunt for fresh game.

“Damn right he does.” Finn smirks at her, chucking her under the chin.

“It’s not funny, Finn. How am I ever going to get good at kissing if I can’t get anyone to kiss me?”

This is about that stupid bloody game of Chop’s up at Rutland’s last week, Finn realises. Chop’s a mate, but he can be a complete dickhead sometimes.

“And what if they don’t just want to kiss you? Lads don’t always stop at a kiss, Iz,” says Finn.

“Girls don’t always want to stop at a kiss either, Finn.” She scoffs when his eyebrows shoot skyward. “Jesus, you’d hardly be Stamford’s resident sex god if they did now, would you?”

“Oi!”

“Don’t ‘oi’ me. It’s alright for you, there’s always loads of girls throwing themselves at you. You can take your pick and they’ll do anything you ask them to. No-one takes me seriously; I’m like the tag-a-long little sister. Just some stupid, bloody mascot.”

 

“That’s not true,” he starts, but doesn’t finish because he not sure that it isn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that, it is. No-one sees me Finn. They can’t see me past you lot.”

“I see you, Iz.”

“You? You’re the worst of all! I’m not your sister, Finn.”

Finn’s head jerks up. Despite his assurances to the contrary just now, he does sometimes forget that she’s a girl. She’s just always been his Izzy. She’s all fairy floss pink and sunshine yellow and maybe the girliest girl he’s ever known but he’s never thought about her like that before. He studies her intently now and she does her best not to look away.

He can see the exact moment when she decides. She knows what she wants but hasn’t figured out how to ask for it. Izzy’s made no secret of the fact she fancies Chop. The only person who doesn’t seem to know it is Chop himself. Finn thinks Chop might fancy Izzy too but he’s not said anything directly and he’s never done anything about it. What Finn is considering now would be dangerous for everyone if he didn’t already know that he’s safe. Izzy doesn’t want him. Not really, but he’ll do. She knows she can trust him not to hurt her, and he won’t. He would never.

Izzy’s right - why shouldn’t she be loved? Why should she miss out on feeling good? If Chop’s too fucking blind to see what’s right there in front of him, that’s his loss. Anyway, this isn’t about Chop. It’s about Izzy and Finn won’t make her ask.

“C’mere,” he drawls, his hand cupped around her face, the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her down further into his lap. He looks her straight in the eye and waits for her to do the same. “This alright?” he asks. She nods briefly, the sweetest of blushes colouring her cheeks. “Izzy?” and she realises he’s waiting for her to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” She whispers, then louder, “Yes. It’s alright.” He gently holds her face then kisses her lightly once, twice, presses his nose into the crook of her neck; runs his tongue from her collarbone to her ear, mouthing tiny kisses along her jawbone and back down the column of her throat. Her skin is soft and warm and fragrant. She smells like summer.

She’s over eager, pushing hard against his mouth, her tongue insistent, but he remains still, placing soft, slow, deliberate kisses against her lips until she stills too. Then he takes her bottom lip between his and suckles it. His tongue flicks at the seam of her mouth and his hand ghosts the length of her back before coming to rest on her hip.

She wriggles towards him and moans and he has to remind himself that she’s his mate. He strokes her tongue with his, coaxing it into his mouth, sucking on it and she’s trembling and he just wants her to feel good.

Izzy is a quick study and she goes from mimicking his movements to experimenting with her own and it isn’t long before he’s groaning under her touch. They snog for ages, both enjoying the heat and proximity of another body. The heady, fizzy feel brought on by the touch of the other, the slow, heavy drag building in the pit of their bellies.

She becomes bold and begins to explore his body with her hands and mouth. She maps the contours of his broad, swimmer’s shoulders, trailing the curve of his bicep, the length of his forearm, her fingers playing lightly over his as she guides his hand from her hip to the delicate swell of her small breast. He tenderly thumbs her pebbling nipple, causing her to press herself harder against him and squirm.

Izzy needs to feel Finn’s skin. Her hand slips to the hem of his Henley and it’s her turn to pause. She pulls away slightly breathless and his lips follow hers; he opens his eyes to see why she’s stopped. It becomes a hesitant dance. “Can I…?” she says, indicating his shirt.

“Yeah.” He nods, looking at her intently, a shy smile on his lips. He raises his eyebrows in question as to whether he can continue to kiss her. His gaze is dark and heat-filled and she falls back enthusiastically to his mouth. Her fingers move incessantly beneath his shirt as she tries to apply all the knowledge she’s gleaned from the likes of Just Seventeen and Cosmopolitan and every girl’s bathroom she’s ever been in on how to please a man.

She tugs his shirt up higher to gain access to more of him. She drags short nails across the warm soft skin, slowly tracing every crease and curve across the plane of his chest, watching in fascination as her touch affects him; the way his nipples harden and the flutter of his stomach muscles; the sudden jagged edge to his breathing when she slides her hand down his belly. Her fingers fall to the buckle of his belt and she deftly opens it, and his jeans, shushing him when he begins to protest that she doesn’t need to, he’s okay without it. He’s smooth and thick and hard and it’s like nothing she’s ever seen before. She’s mesmerised and she runs her fingers curiously over the length of him, following every ridge and vein until he groans and she remembers that there’s an actual person attached to this strange and beautiful thing she’s holding in her hand. “Does that feel good, Finn? Is it…? Am I…?” Looking up at him she finds him staring in wonderment at her. He nods once, almost shyly. She holds his gaze as she slowly begins to stroke him. She watches his face closely, gauging her success by the way his eyes roll back. Her eyes rake down his body, taking in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the twitching of his cock. She thinks he may never have been more beautiful than he is right now with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his head thrown back against the chair. She’s distracted by the sight of him and he whines when her hand stops moving. It only takes two or three more strokes of her hand before his body is tensing and he’s crying out.

She likes the way her name catches in his throat. She likes the stickiness of him on her hands. She likes the firm grip and the suddenness of movement and the gentle strength of him as he shifts her again, picking her up and arranging her so she’s straddling his thigh, his hand curling around the curve of her arse and squeezing it. She likes the way his hand slips beneath the hem of her skirt and past the edge of her knickers, the way his thick fingers run teasingly from the seam of her arse to the seam of her cunt and slide expertly beyond her slickness. He works her diligently, his eyes never leaving her face. She’s riding him, panting tiny moans into his mouth, one hand full of his shirt, one hand full of his hair. He’s pulling her hard against him until her back arches and she shudders and she’s breathless and still. He adjusts her clothing for her and holds her close while she comes back to herself, “You okay, Iz?”

She hums her assent. Eyes hooded, boneless and languid, she bites her lip, nose pressed into his neck. The combined scent of tobacco, sweat and cologne locks itself away in her sense memory. “Anna Harris is right. You are a sex god,” she sighs as she lazily curls into him.

“Oi, you!” He pokes his finger into her side. “Besides, how the fuck would Anna fucking Harris know? Never been there, never going there. I told you that.” They laugh. It’s comfortable. They’re good.

“What about you?” she asks, lightly dragging her fingers down the front of him, pulling his shirt back down; the barely-there touch causes his stomach muscles to flutter again in a way she’s coming to enjoy. Her hand slows, and finally stops, on the open front of his jeans. She’s so giddy with the pleasure of seeing the affect she’d had on him drying on his skin that she almost giggles. He threads his fingers through hers and waggles their joined hands between them.

“I’m grand, Iz.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just give me a minute.” He tugs her hand and she settles happily back against him, sighing contentedly. “You make me dizzy, Miss Izzy.”

She does giggle then. Finn plants a sloppy kiss to her temple.

“And for the record, you are an excellent kisser.”

“Spread the word, yeah?”

“You got it.”

She lingers a moment, and then pulls away so she can look at him. Finn’s on every girl in Stamford’s wish list, Izzy knows, but he’s just an experience for them to tick off. To see what it’s like, to see what all the fuss is about. They don’t really know him and they never will. And she worries that Finn will never be loved the way he’s supposed to be loved.

“I love you, Finn Nelson,” she says seriously, holding his face between her small hands so he can see she means it. ”You’re such a lovely boy and a good friend.” His breath hitches slightly as he leans into the palm of her hand; his eyes well slightly and a soft smile forms on his lips. She doesn’t need to hear him say he loves her too, so she straightens up and asks, “Do you think we can we get out of here and go to the pub now please?”

Chop chooses that moment to reappear, rubbing gingerly at the rapidly reddening side of his face and tucking his jeans’ pocket back in and it’s only then that they remember they’re not alone. Chop eyes them suspiciously. They make an intimate picture and he shifts uncomfortably. “What a waste of an evening,” he huffs. “Sexy party my arse. All the birds are mingin’. Let’s get down the pub before they call last orders.” 

“Thank fuck,” Finn sighs, as Izzy chimes “About bloody time.”

“You go find Archie mate, and we’ll meet you out front,” says Finn, not moving. Chop’s eyes narrow again and he takes a beat before he turns to go in search of their missing friend. “And it’s your shout, Chopper. Just so you know!” Finn calls after his receding back. Both Finn and Izzy laugh when he flips them off.


End file.
